The Redemption of Velma Von Tussle
by Broadwaylover5300
Summary: Velma's thoughts as she stands before her final curtain.


**Well, another song awakened my muse, so here I am!**

**This is based on the song "I Started a Joke" by the Bee Gees. I'm a big fan of the early pre-disco Bee Gees, and this is among their best. It's the most heartbreaking song I've ever heard, and I thought it would fit this really well. Listen to it as you read, please; it adds a new dimension to the story.**

**I don't own Hairspray, nor do I own Hairspray or its characters.**

The pain hadn't stopped for two whole years. It was Velma's constant companion, a constant throbbing surging through her body. It wasn't so much her head that hurt, although that was where the root of the troubles lay; rather, it surged down her spine to every other organ of her body, shooting like bolts of pure ozone lightning. Velma moaned as she looked at her IV, dripping into her body. Her eyes perused her hospital room, completely devoid of get-well cards and flowers. Of course, the get-well cards would have been a joke, for everybody knew that she would never be getting well, but still, it would have been a nice gesture. Then again, she thought, she had never been nice, never in her whole life, so it wasn't like she deserved it, anyway. She had never believed in karma before, but this mad a compelling case for its existence.

It had been two years ago, in 1966, that she had been diagnosed with brain cancer. It was inoperable, of course (another point in the case for karma), and the doctor had given her two years ago. Now here she was, precisely on schedule.

Her head throbbed this time, but it wasn't from the tumor. It was the pain of the heart. Here she was, alone, as she had been her whole life. She had effectively alienated everybody in her life, including her family, just from trying to provide the best for herself. She used people like one might use a tissue; when they had outlived their usefulness for her, she just threw them away. If she had taken the time to stop and look around, she knew she would have realized she was the one being thrown away, thrown away by the whole world.

As Velma lay there, wrapped in her cocoon of self-pity, a knock came at the door. "Come in," she said, appalled at her gravelly-sounding voice. The council kids, including Corny and Amber, entered, carrying bouquets of flowers. None of them looked like they particularly wanted to be there, and Velma didn't blame them. Corny was the only one with any sympathy on his face.

"Hi, Velma," Corny said gently. He gestured at the flowers. "We thought you might enjoy these."

Velma nodded and smiled wanly. Corny nodded at the council kids, who proceeded to place the bouquets throughout the room.

"Thanks," Velma said.

"No problem," Corny smiled. "You know, you're a lot nicer person since you've been here."

"Well," Velma said, "I guess dying opens your eyes. You'll find out someday."

Amber gave her mother a look. "Always so dramatic. You're not dying."

Velma gave Amber a sympathetic look, something that Amber wasn't expecting. "I'm sorry, Amber. You're wrong. Ask Dr. Carver. He'll tell you." Velma covered her mouth and coughed. She drew her hand away from her mouth and tried not to gag as she saw the blood in her hand. Velma sighed. "I'm sorry, Amber. You have every right not to believe me. If I were you, I wouldn't believe me either."

Amber was taken aback by Velma's softness, but she wasn't appalled by it, either. "What do you mean, mother?" she asked.

"I'm sorry for not being a good mom to you," Velma said. "I was too wrapped up in myself, I can see that now." She turned to Corny. "And I'm also sorry to you, Corny. I thought the world was a joke, but I see now that the joke was on me." She coughed again. "And apologize to the rest of the kids for me. I've hurt everyone in this room." She was silent for a moment, then said, "Now that I'll be gone, maybe all of you can really start living."

Corny and Amber had tears in their eyes, and so did the rest of the council. Nobody said anything; there was really nothing left in the world to say.

Velma gestured at the door. "Go on, get out of here. Get on with your lives, and don't cry over me. I don't deserve it."

Corny swallowed. He nodded at the rest of the council, and they slowly made their way out of the room.

Velma sighed and lay back in her bed, staring at her TV blaring "Another World" from the other side of the room. She closed her eyes, letting a wave of warmth wash over her. She knew this was the end, her last few minutes. She didn't know how she knew, but she did, just the same.

Suddenly, Charlton Heston's voice rang in her mind, saying a line he had said in the last movie she had seen: "Somewhere in the universe, there must be something better than man."

_I sure hope so_, Velma thought as she sank into her bed for the last time. _I sure hope so._


End file.
